


Dance Dance

by CaitClandestine



Category: Fortnite (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, x2 Twins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26003599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaitClandestine/pseuds/CaitClandestine
Summary: Jesse dances.
Kudos: 1





	Dance Dance

**Author's Note:**

> just thought lil jesse in lil pointe shoes'd be cute is all

It's a little after dinner, eaten around the outdoor table with a sunset backdrop, crickets chirping in the background and while most of the house has dispersed, Jordan's still sitting at the table alone with his glass of child-friendly firetruck, a few of the guys around the fire and Jesse, Jesse's been ever so predictably cornered by the patio by their youngest sister. 

She's been playing the long game, Jordan knows she's been waiting ever since they turned up this morning for what's about to happen - or rather, what she's about to try and make happen. She'd be good at Fortnite, has the patience they both lack to be this level of tactical. 

He can't hear the exact conversation but he's heard it a hundred times over. All the girls in the house are dancers, beautiful, talented amazing dancers that make Jordan feel clumsy just walking next to them because he's missing whatever gene it is, can barely make it through the Nutbush without tripping over. There's other eyes watching too, the chat around the fire dying down and he can see his mothers hair peeking out from a window, collectively waiting with baited breath.

Jesse has to know, tense lines of his shoulders an exact giveaway if you can read him like Jordan can and he hates that even here his twin is uneasy, not reassured by their presence. 

He sips at his drink, thinks this is almost a dance of it's own. She's the youngest, the one that still climbs into their laps for cuddles and has the cheekiest toothy grin and she's absolutely got both of them wrapped around her little finger. She comes to him for all her crazy acrobatic ideas, for trampoline shenanigans even though he's barely athletic enough to catch her these days and they have their studious craft sessions - Jordan's not half bad at making cards, even if his handwriting's terrible and he has no doubt she adores him but he's not her favourite and he's perfectly okay with that because the honour should be Jesse's. 

Jesse can dance. 

He doesn't always, but Jordan has a feeling he'll agree tonight. It's been so long since they've visited, so long since the last time and even though he's playing the game right back, ignoring the smallest pleading voice and soulful eyes of childish persuasion until the very last moment, giving in with the barest of nods that sends tiny feet scampering away through the house in almost contagious joy.

"He said yes, mum he said yes!"

Jordan sets his glass back on the table, catches Jesse's eye. He's still standing there, a knot of anxiety that hasn't lessened any with his agreement and he wants to go over, comfort him but knows it's not the right time, that the other needs to do this on his own.

A head curls back around the door frame, delicately placed flower crown over messy hair.

"Come on Jesse, I already got your shoes out!"

There's a spot behind the house, next to the water tanks that's always been an impromptu stage. Soft dirt that's kept worn and flat from the constant practice and it's there that everyone slowly migrates, someone plugging in the mix of Christmas and fairy lights that wrap around the surrounding trees, the posts of the back verandah and turning off the outdoor lights, plunging them into darkness before Jordan's eyes adjust to the soft shadows. He settles onto a beanbag, draws his knees to his chest. 

It feels like they wait forever but no one minds, hushed conversation and Jordan wonders just what Jesse's feeling up to tonight, how much he'll let himself be. How much he'll be coaxed into. 

Tiny feet reappear, radiant grin and a pastel pink tutu has joined the flower crown, dainty ballet shoes to match and Jordan's heart skips. 

"He said one dance" She intones seriously, coming to stand in front of him and holding out her phone, "I think I can get at least two but I picked your favourite first"

"You're my favourite" Jordan murmurs, solemnly accepting his usual job of being in charge of the music. She knows them too well, knows that he has a soft spot for ballet and a very soft spot for a certain show. It's a thing between them, she knows when it's coming to town or sometimes she's even in it and he'll be there, front row seats every time but there's something truly special about it when it's Jesse. Tahli likes it too, one of the few fancy events he'll organise for a date night and not ditch for stream.

"I know" She replies sweetly, "You totally owe me"

Jesse creeps out a few minutes later and Jordan's heart jumps again. They're grown up in the kind of family that embraces different, nurtures individuality and even if he personally has zero belief in the moons influence or drum circles he's immensely thankful for it, for how, as cliche as it sounds, it's let Jesse have a free spirit or whatever. 

It's always been a thing, Jesse wanting to dance. Like the girls. In all the ways the world will never let him. There should be trophies and medals for dance up on the wall for him too, instead of tennis and basketball and touch. Jordan's never once joked about it, always known it's something far too fragile for that. 

He's still wearing the plain black t-shirt from earlier but now there's a leotard underneath, the board shorts that were actually Jordan's replaced by soft pink tights and matching chiffon practice skirt, layers of the soft fabric with the tiniest little sparkles added. It's a far more subtle look and Jordan thinks more elegant, more suited to his twin than a proper tutu would be; unobtrusive and with what Jesse has quietly admitted just the right amount of movement when he twirls. 

He looks beautiful, even though his hairs a mess there's a similar band of flowers to their sisters on top of it and the ribbons on his pointe shoes are clearly wrapped and tied by a far more practised hand, trailing up his legs in a perfect criss-cross. 

The shoes, Jordan can't appreciate them enough. He'd demanded to try them once when they were much younger and promptly sprained an ankle trying to prance across the kitchen floor, can't fathom how they, how anyone does it. How Jesse, who can barely keep up with him on his morning jogs without his inhaler and several walk breaks, who struggles to lift their PCs up onto the desk for repairs has the strength and desire to arch up onto his toes and hold it, look every bit as graceful as their sisters. 

They've always loved him for it, coming home and with practising with him, passing on their ever increasing skills and Jordan loves him for it too, the way all the little layers Jesse keeps himself wrapped up in unravel a little when he's free to move to the music. 

He hits play as Jesse's practically dragged into their view, head hung low and almost sheepish until Jordan hits the play button and a soft tinkle of piano and violin echoes into the darkness and watches the magic unfold. Jesse's free like this, stretching out and easing into the movements with the kind of grace Jordan can only wish he possessed. There's a hint of a smile on his face, which is all Jordan needs to know that his twin is absolutely in his happy place, the kind of free he struggles to be in real life.

Their sister was right, manages to get a second dance out of Jesse but he baulks at a third, suddenly seems to be aware of the crowd watching him in the darkness and some of the looseness disappearing from his body and the music comes to stop and he quickly shuffles off their makeshift stage.

The spells broken, someone flicks the lights back on and chatter picks up again, an uncle wondering loudly if there's any more cold beers in the fridge and Jordan heads back to the mostly dead fire, picks up a stick to poke it with and adds an extra log. 

It's a different dance now, one where he patiently waits for his twin to appear out of the darkness, approaching him almost tentatively. Wordlessly, Jordan holds out an arm for him to curl under and just holds the embrace when Jesse moves to hug him instead. He's reassured the other a million times before, doesn't need to say anything now.


End file.
